The End
by Devil's Shadows
Summary: The Joker has kidnapped Robin and has tortured Batman's secret identity from him, but he doesn't stop there. One by one, everyone the Dark Knight cares for is turning up missing or dead and for once it's Batman that needs saving.
1. Alone

The sun was setting now, casting crimson and shadows all over Wayne Manor. Usually there was an elderly, though fit butler to tend to the place, but all was silent and unmoving. Each hall and room had an empty feel to it now, despite the fact that each of them was completely furnished. There was nobody here to occupy them, not even the master bedroom.

Deep beneath the foundation of the large, secluded house stood a lone figure shrouded in darkness. Few people had ever seen this place, the cavernous dwelling of a mighty protector, and he knew that next to nobody outside of himself would ever see this place again. The house above him had been forever silenced by five acts of cruelty. As always, Batman found solace in standing in front of one of the black pits of the cave, but this time it was different - his shoulders were heavy with the burden of defeat and his eyes were devoid of the iron determination that once fueled him.

The Joker had found out his secret after torturing it out of Tim, but he hadn't stopped there. Instead, he learned every aspect of his secret and, being the maniacal individual he was, went after everyone he held dear. And so, here he stood, contemplating what he should do next. He turned away from the pit, vaguely aware of an alarm going off on his computer. Bruce pulled his mask over his face, numbly approaching the huge screen under the guise of Batman.

He typed a few commands ointo the keyboard, and a news report appeared in front of him, hosted by that redheaded journalist Summer something - her name escaped him at the moment. What interested him was the story she was reporting on. A huge, almost grotesquely so, man clad in leather was destroying everything he could get his massive hands on, while Summer watched from a circling helicopter out of harm's way. The mangled, bloody bodies of the police were littered through the streets, some having been thrown through windows, others sprawled across broken cars.

The masked man looked up, directly into the camera with blazing, crimson eyes and bellowed in a voice that could be heard even over the sound of the choppers' blades:

"BATMAN! This will not end until you personally do it yourself!" In one massive arm was, undoubtedly choking to death judging from the bulging eyes and the panicked scrambling, a uniformed SWAT officer, sans helmet.

"Bane." With that single word, he walked over to the Batmobile and hopped in. Joker would have to wait for now. The engine roared to life after receiving the code to do so and the dark car left the cave with increasing speed.


	2. Near Death Experience

The Batmobile came roaring through downtown Gotham, never once even attempting to slow down. Any of the other Gotham Knights would have noticed the reckless change in the way that Batman was handling his car, but they weren't around. Thanks to _him_. Despite how he desperately didn't want to think about it, the silent drive gave him the time to do so.

---TWO WEEKS AGO--

It had been a normal enough day, assuming that someone could call oddly attired vigilantes normal. Tim had been missing for close to a month now, and the silence of the underworld was starting to wear thin on Batman's nerves. Scarecrow had tried to gas the entire city with his fear gas via the sewer system - he heard Barbara telling him the specifics of the plan, but he wasn't paying attention as he sped towards the juncture in the streets where Scarecrow was hiding.

The city was going by in a blur of dull colors and streetlights, and he was fairly certain that he'd drawn blood from his tongue after biting on it so hard to keep from cursing Barbara out.

"Batman, did you hear me? Batman!"

He switched off the com link and pulled the Batmobile over with a mighty squeal of the tires, and off he went. Batman didn't remember navigating the sewers, only realizing that he'd done so when he got into the huge room that Scarecrow had set up in. There was a large machine here, which was no doubt responsible for pumping the toxin into the water. Batman said nothing and moved less than silently towards the catwalk where Scarecrow stood with his back to him.

"Boss, look! It's the Batman!"

Scarecrow turned, glaring down at the approaching figure stepping out of the darkness. His mutilated face pulled into a frown and he ordered his four henchmen to jump him. For once, a small ghost of a grin touched Batman's lips - it sent chills even down the Master of Fear's spine. Batman grabbed hold of a batarang from his belt, a motion that nobody could see thanks to the way his cape fell over him, and flung it up towards Scarecrow.

Everything became a blur to the Dark Knight as he sprung into action after that. He wasn't aware that he'd struck one henchmen so hard that he was given a concussion. He also wasn't aware that a left roundhouse kick had been executed with no restraint and had fractured yet another henchman's skull.

A minute later, Batman's shadow fell across Scarecrow. He began to back away, clutching at his wooden staff protectively.

"Stay back! I'll throw the swi--"

But Scarecrow never got close enough to throw the switch on the machine. Batman was on him before he had a chance to blink, suddenly lunging at him like a caged animal presented with a chance to leave its prison. He was seized by the throat and felt four of his ribs break under a vicious punch. The metal of the catwalk gave a mighty clang as his face met the floor, though Batman's grip remained on his throat.

"Tell me where Robin is, or so help me..." The grim voice hissed into Scarecrow's ear and he felt a knee pressed into his spine. The Master of Fear tried to scramble away, the blood pouring out of his nose and mouth suffocating him as he thrashed wildly in that unyielding grip. Batman yanked his head upwards suddenly, his back sounding off with a loud, wet snap - it wasn't broken yet, but it would be very soon.

"Well?!"

"I-I...don't know! I swea--agh!"

"That's not good enough. Think harder." Scarecrow's mind was racing with a way he could get out of this with his life, and, if at all possible, with his mobility. Batman clearly wasn't playing around, and he would kill him without a thought. He never got a chance, though. Something came whizzing past Batman's ear and got embedded in the metal behind him.

"Batman!" There, down on the floor, stood Batgirl with another batarang in her hand, raised over and behind her head, ready to strike. Batman looked down at Scarecrow and scowled, then released him. Without a thought to the contrary, he disappeared into the shadows and let Batgirl clean up - in the meantime, he had to see her father.

When Batman emerged from the sewers, he noticed that the signal was in the sky again. He sighed and walked towards the Ba--wait. Something was wrong. Batman did a double take and looked harder at the signal. Instead of a bat insignia, there was another figure. That of a huge grin.

"No...NO."

He jumped into the Batmobile and was pretty confident that he broke two hundred miles per hour on the way over to Police HQ.Of course, he stopped a few blocks away and took to the rooftops as he was used to doing. Batman glided down to the roof using his cape and looked about.

"Commissioner?" The only answer he got was a loud sobbing noise from the stairwell. He arched a brow when he saw who it was.

"Montoya. What happened?" He was trying to remain calm, but he was panicking already. This could not be good. She shook her head and turned around, heading downstairs. The Dark Knight followed solemnly, eyes widening when he reached the Commissioner's office. The window had been broken, and something had been thrown in, which had exploded. The office was in ruin with the furniture thrown about and papers scattered everywhere. What really set this whole scene is the corpse that was slumped in the corner. Commissioner Gordon had part of his bare skull showing, but the half that still bore flesh was horribly disfigured in a huge, unnatural grin.

--PRESENT--

Batman snapped out of his reverie as his car roared around a corner. He was here, and Bane knew he was. The huge man turned around after hearing the trademark roar of the engine and grinned, throwing his hostage to the side.

"Ah. Batman!"

He didn't slow down, as Bane was expecting. If anything, the car sped up and bore down on him - but Bane wasn't scared. He knew that the Batman didn't kill and that hitting someone with a car was not--

THUMP

Bane's body was thrown into the air as the Batmobile crashed into him at no less than ninety miles per hour. The black car screeched to a halt, completely turning around to face Bane as he fell to the ground. Batman was out of the car in an instant, running towards his fallen foe as venom began to pump through his veins. Not that he got very far with this, because as soon as he activated his wrist gauntlet, a batarang flew by, cutting the flow of the strength-giving steroid. Before Bane could even look up, Batman had kicked him in the face.

Bane stood up after rolling over with the force of the kick, only to find that Batman was right in front of him. He felt a crashing punch to his gut, which caused him to double over in pain. Big mistake. Batman drove him back with a shocking uppercut, and a running side kick to the chest. Even Bane flew back from the sheer force behind the kick, flattening the passenger side door of a nearby police car.

He was hoping for some time to get his breath back into his body, but a familiar shadow was on him in an instant. Batman gave a feral snarl as he began pounding on Bane while he sat, striking him continually with his fists across the face. Each punch forced his head deeper and deeper into the metal of the door, his teeth falling into his lap and his face swelling beneath his mask. Batman had hit him no less than twenty times before grabbing hold of his throat and applying pressure.

Bane gagged and bought both hands up to Batman's wrists, his good eye rolling as he felt his vision going cloudy.

"Batman, stop!" A bullet pierced the window just by Batman's head. He glanced over his shoulder to see Montoya standing there with half the Police force behind her. The Dark Knight released Bane, who slumped right after, unconscious, but alive.

"Now back away from him and put your hands over your head."

Batman glanced partially over his shoulder, then leapt over the car and disappeared into the alley behind it as the cops opened fire on him, holding their fire only when ordered to do so. A moment later, the Batmobile took off as well, going back around the corner from which it came.


	3. All Along the Watchtower

Batman hid in the shadows of the alley, surveying the extent of his wounds after his brief scuffle with the police. It appeared that in all of the firing that they had done during his escape, one of the bullets had nicked his shoulder, but he was determined not to let that stop him.

That incident had been about half an hour ago, but his adrenaline was still flowing full force, blood pounding in his ears. With skilled gloved hands, he ripped off a part of his cape and wrapped it around his shoulder to keep the pressure on the wound, which he scarcely felt. In fact, he didn't feel much of anything anymore - anger, perhaps, but even then it was to such an extreme degree that he didn't believe there was a word for it.

"He went that way, spread out and search for him!"

Wonderful, it seems that the cops had closed in on him again, intent on bringing him in. Not that he was surprised, without Gordon as the Commissioner, they weren't going to be as hesitant about apprehending him. The Dark Knight righted himself and crept stealthily around a corner, the beam of a flashlight illuminating the area where he had stood only seconds ago. None of the officers heard the grapple discharge, or the subtle sound of his cape expanding as he was lifted onto the roof of the building he was standing next to. Without thinking twice about it, he began making his way across the rooftops, headed in pretty much a straight line, leaping from one to the other as he made his way across the city he'd come to know so well, merely a shadow against the night sky. He was going to rendevous with the Batmobile, though he was unaware as to where he had sent it - only that it was well hidden from the police. All he knew was that it was three blocks to the southwest of his current position. The neighborhood began to take on a more familiar feel the further he delved into it until, finally, he could see the car parked in the alley below him.

It wasn't until he'd descended into the alley that he looked around to see where he was. When he finally realized, an intense wave of cold overtook his body. Crime Alley. This city, it had taken so much from him...and its worst bastard child, Joker was directly responsible for most, if not all of it. After all, how could he be sure that the clown hadn't killed his parents? In his memory, the detail that stood out the most about his parents' killer was the smile he'd had, as though he were particularly enjoying himself when he did it. Or was he simply becoming so obsessed with his opponent that he was imposing his likeness on everything he deemed unfair?

Batman jumped into his car, trying to shake off that nagging sense of guilt that he felt whenever he came to this place. He heaved a sigh and pulled on one of the many disguises that he had stocked in his car, not particularly wanting to think about what's been transpiring ever since Robin turned up missing all those weeks ago. It seemed like an eternity since then, and it seemed as if everyone were trying to take a shot at him at once to keep him from getting to Joker.

When he was finished, he sent the Batmobile home, knowing that it was way too fast for the police to catch on their own and a stout, brown-haired man with a blind eye limped from the alley, blending nicely with what few citizens were still out on the streets of Gotham.

* * *

Many miles above Earth, hovering in the planet's orbit was a metal marvel of science, housing the world's greatest heroes. At the moment, however, there were only two on board the Watchtower as all the rest were off on another planet, trying to prevent a civil war between the only sentient beings there. Wally, Jon, Shayera and Clark were all off on said mission while the remaining two stayed aboard to keep watch over the Earth. Wonder Woman wandered along one of the many corridors, her boots echoing down the hallway as she stared out of the window to her right at the view of her planet. Aside from her footsteps, there was a low humming sound that signified power traveling through the high-tech station, something she generally tended to tune out otherwise she took the risk of going utterly insane.

Plus, her ignoring that sound gave her some much needed time to put her idle mind to good use - she'd all but grown sick of monitor duty, finding that while she was infinitely curious about the new world she found herself in, mankind got a little monotonous after a while. She had nowhere to go, to speak of. No home since she'd left...rather, had been banished from home by her own mother after that whole incident with Hades himself. Perhaps she could ask Bruce later on about what there was to do for fun out in the big city.

Bruce. Now there was a mystery, one she couldn't resist trying to unravel...and couldn't help smiling about whenever she thought about him. Speaking of Batman, she hadn't seen him for a while. None of them had, from the sounds of things, and he wasn't returning any calls - typical Batman behavior, but at the same time, it had gone on long enough. She was going to have to go down there and see him, even if the rest of the League seemed to think that he was perfectly fine.

She was ripped from her musings when a hauntingly pained cry echoed over her from down the corridor, however, freezing her in her tracks. That was J'onn! He screamed again, the sheer volume of agony in his voice wrenching at her very soul, and so she wasted no time in taking off towards the source of the noise. Her high heels left the metallic floor she had been standing on, and she flew as fast as she dared down the circular curve of the Watchtower until she reached the main area, a cylinder a few stories tall that could be accessed from any floor by catwalks that extended far above her head. She spotted him on the third tier, right in the center of the room at the computer console that kept watch for any serious trouble. Hesitant at first, she worked up her nerve and flew up to meet him, dropping down just behind him.

J'onn dropped down to his knees, his back to her as his hands grabbed at his skull as if it were torturing him, shivering violently. Diana wasn't sure what to make of this, but she was sure that she didn't like it...and she would even dare say that she was afraid. She felt the cold grip of dread in her gut, swallowing down the fear she felt as she reached a trembling hand for his shoulder, covered only by that blue cape he wore.

"J-J'onn..? Are you alright?" She was trying to be as soothing as possible, he still didn't look like he was doing all too well. After what seemed like an eternity, her hand touched his shoulder, and she instantly regretted it. He turned around so quickly she barely had time to react, and she suddenly felt her head snap backwards as her feet left the ground. Her body was lifted forcefully off the floor and she flew back until she hit the elevator shaft, the metal bending from the force of her impact.

She slid down to the ground, where she sat slumped and barely breathing, shoulders sagging and head bowed forward as blood leaked from her mouth to her left thigh...and soon enough, the shadow of J'onn fell over her unconscious body as he walked over to her.


	4. Batgirl's Defeat

Diana woke up with a low groan, her head throbbing. She raised her hand up to her lips and winced when she felt her own touch - her mouth was incredibly sore and from the looks of her hand quite bloody. Everything came rushing back to her, then, and she lifted her head to see that J'onn was still there, standing over her. She stood up shakily off of the cold metal ground, surprised to find a Martian hand offered to her as if to help her up. After a brief hesitation and a wary stare, she accepted it and managed to pull herself up.

"What was that for?" She yanked her hand away and started to massage at her jaw, which she suspected had been sprained...she might even have a few teeth loose after a punch like that.

J'onn looked down to the ground as his arm fell back to his side, hurt and troubled by his own behavior.

"Please forgive me, Diana. Let's get you to the infirmary."

She gave a brief nod, wondering what could have caused such a drastic change in behavior. Then again, this was a psychic and she knew he would tell her sooner or later. And so, a trip to the infirmary and a soothing ice pack against her jaw later, she found herself sitting on one of the many cots in front of him, awaiting an answer to her question.

"I'm certain that you realize by now that I can communicate telepathically with sentient beings." Diana nodded here, her expression softening from accusing to slight curiosity. "There are very few wills out there strong enough to override my own mind, like that...incident with Morgan LeFaye. I was seeking someone out when I ran into a force like that, though it wasn't this individual's magic that made me act like that. It was the sheer volume of pain and rage coming from them. And I fear that this person will act on these feelings if someone doesn't stop them."

Diana tilted her head in wonder. "Who, J'onn? Who could feel such deep resentment?"

For a long moment, it didn't seem like J'onn wanted to say, but he did.

"...Batman."

* * *

There it was again, that laughter. She knew by now that whenever she heard it that she was in for another world of hurt. Barbara Gordon had lost count of how many days she had been here - actually, she never had any idea. There was no sunlight in this godforsaken room since there were no windows. All she could see was the door in front of her, and sometimes even that was questionable in the utter darkness she found herself in.

The last thing she remembered was going to her favorite restaurant to meet her father after that encounter with Scarecrow. She'd cuffed him, of course, and had alerted someone to take him back to Arkham, shaken that Batman had nearly broken Crane's back in a fit of rage. But, she had other things to worry about after that, which was why she had gone to her apartment and changed into a tastefully revealing dress, a deep azure, backless thing that clung to her with a low 'V' that revealed some cleavage but not so much that she'd attract too many stares. She'd gone to the restaurant as planned, and was escorted to her reserved seat where she'd downed a couple of glasses of wine waiting for her dad to show. The candles in front of her had gone down to about halfway before the waiter delivered a note intended for her: 'Barbara - got hung up at work. Come over to my place, I had Sarah cook you up something special, and I'll pay you back whatever you spent in the restaurant. Can't wait to hear the news you were supposed to tell me, but it'll have to wait until I get home. Love, Dad'.

She had been disappointed, of course, since she'd really been looking forward to trying the chicken alfredo that this city-renowned Italian restaurant had to offer. Once she'd paid the waiter (who was regarding her in a way that screamed 'you cheapskate') for the wine, she climbed into her car and drove back to her father's place. It was here that her night took a turn for the worse. She knew something was wrong the instant she parked in the driveway - all the lights were off. Wasn't her stepmother Sarah supposed to be home? Since when did she go to bed at 9 o'clock at night? A TV should have been on at the very least, but no not even the faint bluish gray glow of a television. Cautiously, she approached the front door, though she felt a distinct sense of dread with each step she took towards her dad's house. When she finally got to the door, she was almost shivering on an 80 degree night. She raised her key in a shaking hand, only to find that the door fell in the instant she touched it.

Had she been a normal woman, she would have screamed at what she saw. Her stepmother, pale as the moonlight that was streaming in on her body, was lying on her side in the fetal position in a pool of black liquid that Barbara knew to be blood. Sarah's eyes were still open, though, and she was still breathing shallowly and quickly. Barbara quickly fell to her knees by her stepmother's side and immediately saw that she had a gaping bullet wound in her stomach, tears running down her face. Her mouth was moving, trying to tell Barbara something, eyes wide with fear. It was then that she noticed that Sarah was looking over her shoulder, and Barbara turned around just in time to see the silhouette of a female with her arms raised - arms that lowered quickly, bringing down a wooden hammer that struck her on the crown of her head.

She had woken up here, wherever here was, to find that she was sitting down on her knees on a cold cement floor with her back against a pole of some sort and chains wrapped around her entire torso, arms twisted behind the pole. And it was here that she was tortured and tormented for hours on end. By this point, moving was all but impossible for her and she'd been released from the chains so that she could lay down on the floor. The room now reeked of blood - her blood, to be exact, and the decaying stench of death. On the other side of the room lay Sarah's body, rotting and decomposing rapidly in the damp, cool air. Barbara had been brutally beaten, electrocuted, shot up with so many varying drugs that she'd lost track of what their effects were. She doubted that she'd be able to recognize herself in the mirror now...her left cheek was swollen so badly she looked like she was sucking on a jawbreaker about the size of a baseball, her right eye was swollen shut and her body was covered in the blood of the shallow cuts and bruises that had been inflicted on her. And her poor dress. Her favorite dress. It was ripped to tatters now, and her entire body ached and throbbed from the amount of punishment she had taken.

Her stomach in particular was killing her. She hadn't eaten in...well, she didn't know, but she was starving. Even though she couldn't see, she could feel herself getting thinner and weaker by the moment. Now it felt like a hot knife in her stomach when it growled, and Sarah...no, she couldn't think thoughts like that. It was her stepmother, for god's sake and she could barely move, let alone cross the room.

That was when the door opened, revealing a silhouette she knew all too well, though the light flooding in from around him caused her to whimper and turn away from the sight. A chuckle came from him, then, as he approached her cowering form.

"Tsk tsk. Poor Babsy. You're wasting away! You really should eat something, you know."

God, she hated his voice. The Clown Prince of Crime had no pity, no remorse for repeatedly flaying her to within an inch of her life, and yet she knew that she had to do anything he wanted in order to survive. Gathering all the strength in her body, she rose to her knees and wrapped her arms around his leg, raising her eyes to meet his. The look on her face would have melted the iciest of hearts, could have moved hardened gangsters - she was pleading with him, completely unlike she would have done only days ago. Her voice was brittle and cracked from lack of water and all the screaming she'd been doing, seemingly non-stop.

"P-please..." Before she could spit out her sentence, the Joker gave his leg a violent kick, sending her sprawling onto her back across the floor. Normally she would have shrugged off such an impact, but the breath had been knocked from her body from the slightest of throws. She struggled to pick herself up again, only to find Joker's pointed shoe inches away from her face - and then she got a crash course on what a punt felt like as his foot made solid contact under her jaw, knocking a few teeth loose on impact. If she could (without ripping her vocal cords apart), she would have shrieked in pain. Instead, she just curled up where she lay, waiting for him to do what he would with her...what would it be today? More poison, more electrocution? Would he turn her into a mini-Harley for Tim? Poor Tim. Her eyes started leaking tears at the thought of him, his mind twisted and broken, skin bleached and hair a sick green color. He'd never said a word to her the entire time she'd been here. Tim had simply watched with that frozen smile on his pale little face, head tilted in morbid curiosity as his new 'father' explained all the finer points of torturing someone.

To her horror, Tim had even joined in on Joker's command, jabbing her roughly with a cattle prod and laughing about it until he could hardly breathe. What truly broke her heart, though, was the pain in those wide eyes of his as he did those things. Seeing, but not able to stop himself from what he was doing.

Her flashback was cut short when she was grabbed around the neck by a gloved hand and hoisted to her knees, the face of her tormentor mere inches away from her own. The mere sight of his grin was enough to send chills down he spine now, and she began to shiver in his grasp as she saw the hatred in those eyes, blazing like the very fires of Hell.

"Ya hungry, Babs, old girl? You can just nod or shake, I'll get the message." Especially since he wasn't being all that gentle with her, his hand squeezing her throat so that blood built up in the back of her mouth. Still, she nodded at his question, her head bobbing up and down slowly. His grin grew wider...lord, she could count every tooth in his head now, and she whimpered as she saw his spare hand dip into his purple blazer for - her eyes widened in fright - a steak knife. A steak knife he didn't hesitate to stab down into her shoulder, causing her to try and cry out in pain as the burning hot sensation of a blade piercing her flesh registered in her mind, though it only resulted in a choked sputter as the blood from her jaws caught in her throat. And then he simply let her drop to the floor, gasping for air and clutching at the knife sticking out of her flesh. Just for good measure, though, he gave her a push with the sole of his foot against her chest, sending her sliding back with a low, moist squish as she hit her stepmother's decaying remains.

"Guess you'll just have to make due with what you can find. Ooh, I loved Twisted Metal Black!" And with that, he began to laugh, low and sinister as he backed out of the room. Before long, he was in the hallway, his cackle echoing wildly off the walls.

Whatever she could find...it took her a few minutes to figure out what he was talking about until the smell hit her full force all over again. Fresh tears flooded her eyes as she pulled the knife from her shoulder, biting down on her tongue so hard that she began to bleed there, too. She looked behind her at her stepmother, who she hadn't been particularly close to, but still respected. Her stepmother, who was full of maggots and decayed to the point that her skeleton was showing at certain points, her flesh black and eyes wide open and sunken, mouth gaping open in a silent scream. Barbara hadn't eaten in days, but she felt the sudden urge to vomit. And she did, but there was no food in her system. She heaved, eyes wide with horror and disgust as black bile pooled on the floor in front of her, tinged red with the blood that had built up in her stomach and mouth. Dizzy from blood loss, and terrified beyond words, she brought her knees up to her chest and rocked slowly back and forth, her eyes pouring tears as she looked at her stepmother.

"I...I'm sorry..." Barbara leaned in close, and cut herself a piece of Sarah's nape, rewarded with a spray of black, stale blood as it splattered all over the wall and her face. The rotten flesh was raised to her lips, and she bit into it...she cried for doing what she had to in order to survive. But she laughed now - she laughed because it hurt no more.


	5. Rage

It had been a really long walk back home, but Bruce heaved a sigh of relief as the hulking shadow of Wayne Manor loomed in the distance. It had taken him about three hours to walk back home, though he could have easily taken the car here - but the Batmobile had been his version of a distraction for the police. The autopilot probably had it parked down on the rotating space in the cave right now. When Bruce reached the iron front gate of the grounds, he frowned. It was squeaking in front of him in the breeze, the left barred door moving back and forth to tap gently against the other side.

Upon closer inspection, he noticed that the lock had been melted with acid, a revelation that sent a chill down his spine. Gathering all the steely resolve that his alter-ego was known for, Bruce wiped the disguise away as he ran up to the main entrance to his house, his heart pounding heavily in his chest, though it wasn't because he had just sprint a good hundred yards or so. The ornate wooden doors burst open with a bang when he reached them, his gaze scanning back and forth over the entryway. Nothing seemed out of place here, but at the same time he had the sickest feeling in his gut - as if he had just walked in on Satan himself getting ready to burn the house down. He forced himself to calm down by steadying his breathing and pressed on into the eerily quiet manor.

"Alfred?" No answer came. _'Don't panic, maybe he just didn't hear me...Joker, so help me if you've done anything to Alfred...'_ His thoughts were becoming the jumbled mass of a headache as he proceeded into the living room. Bruce cracked open the door and poked his head inside, giving a quick sweep of the area. It was completely dark except for the moonlight pooling onto the floor in divided squares from the windows. He seldom used the furniture in this room, but even so he felt an odd chill come over him as he looked over the expensive rugs and lamps that littered the place. All of it was something of a cover, bought primarily to make it look like someone actually lived here. With a sigh, Bruce closed the door quietly and headed down the hall even further.

That was when he smelled something. Bruce stopped in his tracks and breathed in again: definitely cooking flesh. But what was it? He knew Alfred's cooking well enough after nearly twenty years of eating it, but there was just something…wrong with the way this particular dish smelled.

"Alfred..?" Bruce turned around and headed down the dark hallway in the opposite direction towards the kitchen. There was no question about it now: there was somebody in the kitchen, judging from the fluorescent light spilling from the crack between the door and the frame. Bruce knew now why the 'food' didn't smell right, and his stomach twisted at the thought. Steeling himself for what he may see, Bruce kicked open the door and sprang into the kitchen with a batarang flipped open and held in striking position. He wished he hadn't. "ALFRED!"

The butler had his back to him despite the noise from the wood ripping apart as the door was bashed open. He was simply too calm, standing there in front of the stove, stirring the contents of a large pot – normally that wouldn't seem like it was so abnormal, but it was what was around him that Bruce was reacting to. There was blood everywhere in here. Some of it looked as if it had sprayed from an artery, other spots were in hand prints, and still others looked vaguely reminiscent of a face. What held his attention, though, was what lay on the counter behind Alfred. A dismembered and eviscerated corpse lay there, its organs haphazardly thrown about as if DEA were searching the open cavity for drugs. Worst of all, the identity of the victim – her head sat there on the counter, staring at him with wide, horror-filled eyes. It was Leslie Thompson, the woman whom he'd more than often thought of as a mother.

Realizing this, Bruce stepped back out of the kitchen, the batarang falling to the ground with a clatter, a sick feeling in his stomach. Finally, Alfred turned around from the pot and Bruce felt cold, poisonous fury take over him. The butler's face was twisted into a wide, unnatural grin and the 'spoon' he had been stirring with turned out to be a femur. Bruce wasn't entirely too sure what happened after that. He stood there, shuddering out of sheer hatred for his nemesis. Alfred had never done anything to deserve this kind of treatment, and Leslie certainly didn't warrant any kind of attack, let alone a brutal, torturous murder. That woman had been a saint.

Bruce remembered little when he finally calmed down, only flashes in his memory. He looked around at his surroundings, then down at himself. The arms of the coat he'd been wearing were covered in blood and torn, his knuckles cut and bruised. Somehow, he'd ended up back in the room where the grand portrait of his parents had once hung over the fireplace. Now it lay beneath him, ripped apart and broken in his savage fury. Had he simply blacked out? It seemed that way. The fury had been so intense that he had lost all control. Now he was left panting for breath as he slowly gathered himself to his feet and began his way down the hallway as he had when first entering the mansion, surveying the damage he knew he had caused to his own house, his screams of anguish and accusations echoing through his mind. Shattered windows lay in his wake, as did battered furniture and torn curtains – in fact that was the only real sound that could be heard now, the wind making the curtains billow. But he couldn't hear that over the relentless voices.

And now, he found himself blaming his parents. He blamed them for having ever been born, and because he had been, Alfred was now laying dead in the kitchen…what was left of Alfred, anyway. The entire kitchen had been demolished after the stove exploded. Bruce thought that taking advantage of the exposed gas line was a merciful enough death for his mentor, but now he had a smoking hole in his house where the kitchen had once been. Heaving a sigh, he went to the only piece of furniture that was still whole on the entire level: the grandfather clock that led down to the cave.

* * *

Barbara woke up on the receiving end of a sharp kick against her already tender ribs, a sharp yelp escaping her. She hadn't said a word ever since she had been forced to eat the rotting flesh of her stepmother, something that Joker had all too much fun exploiting. When she looked up, though, she was surprised not to find Joker – instead it was Harley that stood above her with a wide grin on her face, though the boy she held against her grinned wider.

"Heya, Bat-bimbo! Mistah J requests that you join him in the operating theatre. He's going to make you happy, just like Birdboy here. Isn't that right, sweetie?" Upon being addressed, Tim only gave that utterly creepy chuckle of his, that laughter seeming to be his only form of communication. Barbara knew that she should be afraid, but deep down, she had already resigned to being the clown's plaything. It was cruel, it was unfair, but she'd given in. And that is precisely why she allowed herself to be literally dragged down the hall and thrown atop an operating table where a bright light shone down on her. Surgical gloves covered the hands that tied her down by the wrists and ankles as 'Beautiful Dreamer' played over a nearby radio. Before long, one of those hands placed a mask over her nose and mouth, pumping an anesthetic into her lungs. As she went under, she could hear the sound of a saw whirring to life and a chuckle.

* * *

The Justice League gathered in their conference room, the absence of one causing them all a good deal of guilt. In a way, that empty chair had more of a presence than any one of them had despite their being here. Perhaps if they had reached out to him more…no, they had always been there, Bruce had just been too stubborn in his refusal to trust anyone. Still, if what the Martian was saying was indeed true, then they had a very big problem on their hands.

"J'onn, are you absolutely certain about what you're saying? I mean, we all know Bruce has issues, but…"

"I'm certain. It's not just his mind that caused me to lash out at Diana. His very being, everything that makes him who he is…I fear that it is getting darker. He was never an exceedingly happy person, but it's getting worse. It's so bad that I don't dare try to make telepathic contact with him." Everyone went quiet at that news, and for once even Flash was at a loss for something to say. All it came down to was which one of them was brave or foolhardy enough to pay a personal visit to Batman, who was apparently losing his mind. Would he even be able to distinguish between friend and foe anymore?

"Wait. Do you have any idea what caused this? It seems kind of sudden." Hawkgirl, of everyone here had decided to speak up on Batman's behalf. Oddly enough, nobody had thought to ask that question up until now. It had been enough of a shock to learn that J'onn had struck Diana and even knocked her out. Still, now that the question was lingering in the air, J'onn was the focus of attention all over again.

"To be perfectly honest, I wasn't able to sift through all of the rage and pain, but there was one person in particular that kept coming up. This person may very well be the cause of all this." Superman arched a brow at that response.

"There's only one person it can be to get that kind of reaction out of Batman, and I say another one of us pays HIM a visit as well." Clark had never completely shaken off how vulnerable Joker had made him. That clown was frightening, even for Superman. His immense power had nearly fallen to the sheer madness of one person, and would have if Batman hadn't intervened. Once again, there was only the question of who would go where and who would remain should anything happen on Earth. It was Flash who came up with the answer.

"Well, I think going to the Bat is a job for Superman. He terrifies the rest of us." The group murmured an agreement to this sentiment – more so the part that Superman should go. The rest of them felt varying degrees of unease when dealing with Bruce, but 'terrified' was more extreme than any of them would have liked to admit. Diana was inwardly disappointed, though. If Batman was hurting this bad, she thought she should go, but then again she wanted to have a word with this Joker. She'd only met him once before, and he'd managed to trick her with an exploding baby doll. Looking into those eyes had been spooky, at the very least, and if he was responsible for Bruce's pain, she would make him feel much more.

"Very well. I elect myself to go meet this 'Joker'." She said the name with venom, but nobody dared oppose the princess of the Amazons. Then again, that was probably because the rest of them were smart enough to know that the Joker was bad news.

"Okay, then, that settles it. I'll go see what's with Batman and Diana will see what Joker knows. The rest of you stay here and keep watch. I don't like this situation." With that, Superman stood with the rest and the meeting was over.

* * *

A green convertible pulled up in the driveway in front of Wayne Manor, though at this particular time the top was up. It was a little too cool for the driver to be riding around without it. In any case, the door opened revealing a long, smooth leg as the occupant stepped out. Veronica 'Ronnie' Vreeland had grown concerned with the increasing amount of absences from the parties on the part of her friend Bruce. She liked to think that she was quite a catch; after all, she was rich, powerful, and she made sure to keep herself in shape. She didn't understand why, no matter how many times she tried, Bruce never seemed to take the slightest interest. Ah, well. He was her friend, she knew that much, and he seemed to have simply dropped off the face of the planet. She got out of her car, not noticing the plume of smoke that was still rising from what used to be the kitchen.

"Bruce? Oh, Bruce!" She'd even gone to the trouble of wearing a revealing little dress that she'd just bought little over a week ago. When she went to knock on the door, it simply fell inwards, causing her to recoil in alarm. She tentatively entered the house and gasped at what she saw – the entire place was a wreck! It looked as though it had been gone over by a group of vandals, and the air was tinged with the coppery smell of burned blood. She gagged slightly on that revelation and pressed a kerchief against her nose and mouth as she proceeded through the once-great halls of Wayne Manor. It was completely dark, and she was shivering from the way the broken windows let all of the cool night air in. "Dear God…what happened to this place?" She started to think that coming here was a really, astoundingly bad idea, and began to back up towards the door. Her back met a solid body with a low thud, and the sudden appearance of it along with the haunted feel of the house caused her to scream.


	6. The Last of Their Kind

Veronica screamed bloody murder as she spun quickly around to face whomever she had bumped into. Her mind was almost petrified by the fear coursing through her body, pulse pounding in her ears. All she could see was the silhouette of the person against the pale moonlight behind them. Her first instinct was to put distance between herself and this mysterious figure, but before she could even think about doing so, she found herself tackled to the ground, a pair of hands going for her throat. She kicked and flailed violently beneath the figure, even as those hands pressed firmly over her mouth, silencing her frightened screams.

"Shhh!" Ronnie blinked a few times at being shushed by someone who'd just accosted her. Those green eyes of hers narrowed in an attempt to get a better look at the person currently straddled over her midsection, only to be met with more confusion when the face finally struck a chord in her memory. It was Summer Gleeson, Gotham's most recognized reporter. She was, in essence, this city's Lois Lane, except she worked for a television station instead of a newspaper. As such, Veronica was pretty sure that this woman knew who she was, as well, being one of the more prominent citizens of this city. When she finally calmed herself, Summer stood up and even offered her hand to help the Ronnie back up - least she could do after tackling the poor woman.

"Thanks..." She took the offered hand and got to her feet, subconsciously fixing her hair and dress when she was balanced again. Now that she was situated, she eyed the reporter suspiciously. "What are you doing here, and what did you tackle me like that for?" Now that she wasn't afraid of her attacker, she was feeling pretty affronted - she'd even put her hands on her hips, the same pose she struck when she was about to go off and demand something. In this case, she was demanding answers. In response, the reporter grabbed her wrist and pulled her outside to the front steps (where Ronnie's knees were shaking from the cold rather than fear).

"I had no choice, you were screeching like a maniac in there!"

"You snuck up on me!"

Summer sighed a bit and made her way over to her car, parked right behind Ronnie's. Unlike the socialite, Summer had dressed sensibly for the weather, wearing a coat over her sweater and pants. She took a spare jacket from the trunk and offered it to Veronica, who readily accepted it.

"Thanks again...but you still haven't told me what you're doing here."

"The same as you, I imagine. I'm here looking for the elusive Bruce Wayne. It's been about a month now, and he's yet to show up at any charities or parties, he hasn't even been to the office. And you being here lets me know that his close friends don't even know what's going on. I'm just as curious as anyone as to what one of our richest citizens is up to. He seems to have just vanished off the face of the Earth."

Ronnie felt another chill at that, though it had nothing to do with the cold temperatures. "Yes, you're right. No calls, nothing. Even Alfred hasn't made any of the usual excuses for him. At least, not for a couple of weeks."

Summer nodded, but she didn't say anything. She seemed to be sniffing the air. "Do you smell something burning?" She looked up, then, and noticed the smoke retreating into the sky from the mansion, drawing a gasp from her. "Miss Vreeland, we must go inside!"

Before Veronica could even think of stopping her, the reporter ran into the darkness of the building and headed towards the east wing, where the smoke had originated from. She didn't wish to be left outside in the cold, though, so she took off after her, trying her best not to trip and fall on the debris that littered the floors. She went through the wide hall, her footsteps echoing through the darkness as a few curtains licked at her from the right side. Ronnie was simply following the sound of Summer's footsteps, which were erratic, at best. She didn't know where she was going anymore than Veronica did, though she had been to this place a few times. Summer paused at every room until, finally, she stopped. This time, it was her turn to run into Summer's back - when she rounded the corner that led to the kitchen, she found her simply standing there, and as such wasn't able to stop in time. Both women fell facedown to the ground, but neither of them seemed too concerned about it. In front of the two of them lay complete and utter destruction. The kitchen looked like the site of a war zone with the entire south wall missing and crumbled, the counter toppled, every cabinet and drawer blown apart and their contents lay strewn about, singed, and the entire floor was covered in shattered glass. Both of them slowly got to their feet, though that only helped them notice that the smell of burning blood was strongest here, and it was no mystery as to why. Small fires cast a flickering, orange glow around the decimated room, revealing the charred body parts that had been thrown all over the room from the apparent explosion covering the walls with splatters of blood.

Even the seasoned news reporter was frightened, and deeply sickened. She backed away from the scene and heaved, leaning against the wall as she lost her lunch. Veronica did the same thing (though it was more in reaction to Summer than out of disgust – watching her throw up had simply been the last straw), and the two of them slowly made their way back down the hallway from which they'd come, shuddering from what they had just seen. It was one thing to find a room destroyed, but to find PEOPLE destroyed along with it was a totally different matter. The women burst from the house, bent forward so that they held their knees, panting for breath. It took them a while before one of them was able to manage any words, and it turned out to be Veronica that broke the silence when she was breathing somewhat regularly, though she was shivering – and this time, it had nothing to do with the cold.

"Police…we have to call the police."

"What?! This is the story of the century! I'm going to call a news crew here!"

"Are you crazy?! The police would have your head for disrupting evidence if you and a bunch of reporters go in there!" Veronica may be slightly naïve but she was no fool, especially after being kidnapped by the Penguin. Ever since then she had taken an interest in just how the police operated in case she ever needed to rely on them again.

Summer was right about to reply, but she was interrupted when the ground shook beneath them and the air erupted in a shuddering BOOM that made them both fall to the ground. Had they not been screaming at each other for the past couple of seconds, they would have noticed that it had been happening off in the distance for quite some time now, and had been growing closer. That time, though, it had been so near that the windows of the mansion that hadn't been shattered already blew out, as did the glass of the cars parked out front. The two of them collected themselves quickly, utterly bewildered by what had just happened.

"What the fuck was th—"

"Good evening, ladies." With a startled yelp, Veronica jumped into Summer's arms – that voice had come from about three feet behind her! If the speaker wasn't so confused by the reaction, he would have been amused by the astounding resemblance between the two of them and a certain bunch of 'meddling kids'. Lois had gotten him to watch a few episodes of Scooby-Doo a few weeks ago, and 'Roinks, Raggy!' stuck with him.

Summer arched a brow down at Veronica, and promptly dropped the poor woman after noticing who was standing in front of them. It was the big, red 'S' that gave it away, but that didn't stop her from taking in the rest of him as well. While he was fun for her to look at, she often wondered why he chose those bright colors for his costume. Then again, unlike their city's Batman, she doubted that Superman had to sneak up on anybody, and in the event that he had to, he could fly. By now, Veronica had gotten to her feet, though she was too shocked to see Superman standing in front of her to be upset about being dropped. This was starting to get weird: Wayne Manor blows up and Superman comes over?

"Superman?! Thank God! There was this earthquake or something a second ago, and my friends' house is on fire, and Summer won't call the police—"

"Oh, right. Sorry about that 'earthquake'. That was actually a sonic boom. I was going a little faster than the speed of sound when I arrived here, since I didn't expect any company. And, you don't need to worry about the fire, I already put it out."

Summer, however, was a little less than convinced with everything wrapped up like a tidy little miracle. Just why, exactly, was Superman at Bruce Wayne's house when his base of operations was well over a few hundred miles away in Metropolis? Naturally, she pressed him for this information.

"That's very nice of you, Superman, but I don't believe you're over here for a friendly visit." She noticed him tilt his head slightly at her, as though curious. She reminded him a lot of Lois, but then again she was a reporter.

"Well, miss..?"

"Gleeson. Summer Gleeson, it's a pleasure."

"Miss Gleeson, it's nice to meet you. Bruce Wayne is actually a close friend of mine. He defended Lois Lane against the Joker with his life, as you are probably aware. I received a distress call from here not too long ago."

"How did you get a distress call?"

"With this." He held out his hand, then, in which sat a watch bearing his logo in the middle. "It sends out a hypersonic frequency that only I can hear. I gave him one back in Metropolis."

Before Summer could go on, Veronica had approached the Man of Steel and looked him dead in the eyes.

"Superman, did you find Bruce? Is he okay?" Despite the fact that most people dismissed her relationship with Bruce as a typical schoolgirl crush, she actually did think of him as a good friend. She was quite obviously worried, though it didn't take x-ray vision to see that – she looked like she was ready to cry if she got any bad news, and Superman wasn't entirely sure that he could bring himself to lie to her.

"No, I'm afraid not. If anyone was here, they've got him." He instantly regrets telling her that, because the moment the words left his lips, the woman broke down into tears. There was something uniquely distressing about it this time, though – he had seen women cry before, it was a part of the hero gig, unfortunately. This time, though, he knew good and well that Bruce was fine and well physically, but he couldn't tell her lest he risk exposing Batman's identity. He felt even worse when he found her sobbing into his shoulder, knowing he'd caused her this pain. Still, he did his best to comfort her besides this, stroking his palm gently along her back. "It'll be okay. Just go home, get a good rest and I am certain that Miss Gleeson there will be more than happy to keep you posted about what's going on." He knew from experience that asking a reporter to go home was not a very smart idea, but the reporter did give a nod when he looked up at her expectantly.

"That's right, Veronica. I'll keep you informed, and I'll call the police like you asked me to."

If Ronnie thought she was being patronized, she didn't show it. She actually thought that it was quite nice to have people care about her, even if she didn't know them. More than that, though, she was glad that these people actually cared about Bruce and would actually make an effort to help. She managed a smile for them, though she was sure that she looked horrible with her make-up running like it was.

"Thank you…both of you. I think I will go home and get some rest, Superman. And sorry about going off like that, I just…"

"It's okay. I hate to say, but it comes with the territory. As for you, Miss Gleeson…"

"Please, call me Summer." Ronnie's car started up soon after she said that.

"Yes, Summer. Why don't you stay out here and call the cops? I'm going to take another pass over the house." With that, Summer nodded and went back to her car in order to call the cops. Not because Superman said so, but she had pretty much given Veronica her word. Meanwhile, Superman had taken flight and, the second he was out of her sight, he dipped down the face of the nearby cliff into the wide opening that made up the cave beneath the mansion. He flew inside quite easily, the tunnel giving way to a wide cavern soon enough. And there he sat in front of that massive computer, the ears atop his cowl the only indication of his silhouette. He wasn't typing, but before him was a large profile shot of the Joker with all known information listed beside it. Superman didn't know what it was, but something was just off. Call it a sixth sense – it was nothing that he could put his finger on, exactly. Everything in the cave was as it should be, as far as he could tell. All of the trophies were as he remembered them, and the lighting was still on. Rather than stop working, though, Bruce had kept right on reading. Usually he had noticed he was there by now, though Superman had the distinct feeling that Bruce knew quite well he was there, but refusing to say anything.

Clark saw the face of Veronica (though he hadn't caught her name – to him, she was just a young, emotionally hurting woman) in front of him again, crying over Bruce though he was fine and well. It put him in a focused state of mind; he was going to make sure to give Bruce a piece of his mind about that one, to be sure. Instead of floating over, Superman walked up to that computer chair and set a hand on his friends' shoulder.

"Batman." There was no response. "Bruce?" Superman barely had time to move by the time that chair spun around. He was taken off guard when Batman abruptly stood up, and downright shocked when that gloved fist hit him in the face. None of that, however, compared to the surprise he felt when it actually knocked him onto his back, sliding a few feet across the floor. He reached up and touched his lip – he was bleeding, too!

"You're only going to get in my way, Kal-El. It's only out of respect that I'm now offering you the chance to leave this place."

Superman narrowed his eyes and got to his feet, wiping the blood away from his chin. "Why would I leave? I just came here to see if you were alright. J'onn accidentally picked up some psychic backlash, and he said it was coming from you. He also said that there was something very wrong with you, and now that I'm here, I see he's right. I don't want to fight you, Bruce; I just want to know what's going on."

Batman didn't say anything for a moment. It was a tense silence, but before long, he lowered his head and closed his eyes, sighing a bit. It was flashback time, apparently. Even so, Batman felt he owed at least that much. He should at least tell Superman what was going on, and he even held on to the slim hope that the impending altercation could be avoided if only Clark understood the situation.

"About a month ago, Joker managed to kidnap Tim…Robin, while he was out on patrol. I don't know what he's done to the boy, but everyone I've ever cared for is turning up dead. Commissioner Gordon, his daughter Barbara, Leslie Tompkins, Alfred…maybe even Tim. It's all my fault for ever letting Tim become Robin, but…" For a moment, it looked like Bruce was going to lose it. He hung his head and closed his eyes again, as though trying to choke back the tears that threatened to come. Then, without warning, he snapped out of it and met Superman's eyes with a cold glare. "I'm going to kill him for this. Please, don't try to stop me. I don't want to fight you, either, Clark."

Clark sighed a bit. Times like this, he really wished that he wasn't a hero. He sincerely wished he could let Bruce go on with this, go home, and catch a well-deserved nap, or perhaps just spend some time with Lois. To allow this, though, would be murder and Superman simply couldn't allow that to happen.

"I'm sorry, Bruce. I can't let you do that."

"Then I'm sorry, too, Clark." With that, the Dark Knight sprinted, his cape billowing out behind him and Superman raised his arms in a defensive stance. Whatever was wrong with this place was affecting his powers, and as such he couldn't fly. It was a duel, now, man to man.


	7. Another One Bites The Dust

A storm was gathering in the crimson sky over Gotham; Wonder Woman had never particularly cared for that color since it always gave her the impression that the sky itself was scarred. She found it especially difficult to deal with tracking down the Joker, unlike Clark who knew exactly where to look for Batman. She, on the other hand, had left many members of Gotham's criminal underground unconscious or hospitalized in her search for the clown. Oh, sure, she didn't need to beat up on the thugs and muggers, but it sure made her feel a lot better. It was also immensely satisfying to hear the so-called 'tough guys' of this city begging and pleading for mercy and forgiveness from someone they thought to be a stripper at first glance. She stopped in front of a glass display case for a floral boutique and looked herself over.

"I don't see anything wrong with my costume…" She was mumbling to herself now, turning about to look over her shoulder at herself. She was drawing many stares, but she was oblivious to them, so caught up in trying to see just why she gave off such a distasteful first impression…to the men, anyway. "…then again, what do I know? My sisters' standards of clothing are much different." With a sigh, she lifted herself effortlessly off the ground and took flight towards the abandoned toy factory in downtown Gotham. If she continued to stop and self-consciously look herself over, she'd never get to the address she'd squeezed out of Oswald Cobblepot, a.k.a. The Penguin. It hadn't taken much to get anything out of him, really, just the threat of physical violence, a tactic she knew Batman always used with him. It was odd how the underworld worked. The bottom rung all point to Penguin and Penguin points her to the 'rumored' whereabouts of the Joker. Oh, well, she was just glad she had finally arrived.

She landed stealthily upon the roof, peering down into the dark, almost cavernous warehouse with caution. The lights were out, but each occasional flash of lightning highlighted the surreal, utterly creepy layout of the place ranging from the chaotically scattered toys that were still around, the decay that had set in from many years of sitting there idly and then…surgical tools? She narrowed her eyes, looking harder into the darkness at the glint of a scalpel. There was another crack of lightning and for an instant the darkness was completely illuminated, revealing that all of those crude, outdated tools had recently been used. She felt a lurch in her stomach as she continued to look around the room from the skylight – this place had recently been used for some kind of surgery, or torture. So recently, in fact, that she could see the apparent 'patient' still lying on their back.

Wonder Woman had seen enough at that point. The lighting fixture above the person beneath her prevented a clear view of the person on the table. Joker or not (and she had a distinct feeling that the clown was around here somewhere) she had to help this person. She ripped the Master padlock from the skylight and opened it quickly enough so that she could climb through. It didn't take her very long to drop down from the rather high ceiling to the floor, where she landed without a sound in a crouching position. There was another flash of lightning, revealing that the 'patient' on the table was covered in a white sheet. Diana chanced another look at those sharp, bloody instruments haphazardly thrown about as if completely at random. She was an Amazon, and tough as they may be, she had never in all her life met anyone like the Joker – she had no idea what to expect, only that the person beneath that sheet needed her help. She found herself holding her breath as she moved closer to the table, listening closely for anything noteworthy. Some of the air collected in her lungs was released as she heard the person beneath the sheet breathing, though it was very shallow, as if the person was close to death. Diana shook herself mentally. _I'm an Amazon! I know no fear, especially not from someone like Joker._ With that, she reached forth with a steady hand and ripped the sheet away from the individual on the table.

Whatever she had just been thinking to herself a moment ago, she felt the cold grip of fear grip her around the heart with an iron fist, which refused to let go. She backed away from what she saw, hand against her mouth and eyes wide with fright. She hadn't been looking at where she was going, and so toppled over the nearby table that held the rest of the tools that weren't lying on the ground. It fell with a resounding clatter, the table breaking to pieces. It was horrible, what had been done to the poor woman laying before her – Wonder Woman was certain that she'd be sick if she continued to stare, so she closed her eyes and looked away trying to force the image from her mind with all of the concentration and will she could manage. But, no, even with her eyes closed the image remained burned into her retinas, emblazoned upon her memory in blood.

"By the gods…what kind of monster would do that to a person?" The reply came from the darkness behind her.

"Why, me of course, Wonderpants." She nearly jumped out of her skin – only Batman had ever been able to sneak up on her like that! Even then, she'd managed to catch Bruce in the act a couple of times, but there was something uniquely startling about being snuck up on by a clown. Diana whirled around to face in the direction of the voice, though she winced sharply at the sound of a loud click, which bathed the entire area in bright, unforgiving light. Whatever Diana had been feeling a moment ago was quickly replaced by cold fury as she studied the Joker, still clad in surgical scrubs. It would have been difficult to tell where his skin began and the clothes ended under normal circumstances, but there was no such difficulty now: as he walked into the room, she noticed that his clothes were stained with blood as if he were just working in a butcher shop.

"Why? What did she do to deserve this?" Joker started walking calmly into the room, and Diana made sure to keep her distance for the moment, circling his movements with all the grace of a caged tigress. For his part, the Joker didn't seem at all worried about having a furious Amazonian warrior ready to kill him. He circled her right back, hands behind him as his black dress shoes made his footsteps echo through the cavernous room. She was so focused on him that she paid no heed to the grinning faces of the stacked crates and garish, rotted toys that were piled about like decaying corpses. She also didn't notice that a few feet off the ground, nestled between a few boxes, a pair of living eyes was following her every move.

"She was guilty by association, princess! Much like you are." He'd moved over to the table by now, where the woman was stirring weakly in response to the light washing over her. "Shhh. Go on back to sleep. You need your rest!" Diana only saw a weak nod from her before the Joker pulled the sheet back up over her, seemingly tucking her in. Now Wonder Woman was intensely disgusted with what she was seeing.

"You depraved maniac!" She was on him in an instant, grabbing him around the collar. He didn't try at all to resist as she lifted him from the ground and pinned him against the wall. Again, she was inwardly struck by his seeming lack of fear. He simply looked her right in the eye unflinchingly, save for the sharp wince he gave when she'd slammed his back against the wall. A few of the stacked boxes fell to the ground from the sheer force of the impact, shattering along the ground. She was even more galled by the unmoving grin. _How does Bruce deal with this guy?!_

"Ha! I've heard that one before. Now why don't you put me down?"

"Oh, I'll put you down alright." She narrowed her eyes at him and seriously considered ripping his limbs off, but before she could even bother, he'd grabbed her bracelet with a gloved, bloody hand. A few thousand volts of electricity coursed through her in an instant, causing her grip to tighten on his shirt, but for the life of her she couldn't relax. Every nerve in her body was on fire, screaming in agony and finally, he released her, pulling the spent joy buzzer from his middle finger. She stood there on shaky legs, stunned as smoke rose from some of her hair and costume.

"Ah, now there's a good girl." Joker was no fool, though. He knew that she was still quite dangerous despite her current state of affairs, and so he backed away from her. All she could do was try to regain her senses, but she felt the blackness of unconsciousness creeping in on her. Still, she angrily maintained eye contact as the Joker moved around her, careful to remain out of reach.

"Go…go to…" She had no chance of finishing her sentence, though, as a lithe figure leapt from the background. Diana only saw a swirling mass of red and black as it rose high, nearly to the twenty foot ceiling. It screamed in a shrill, ear-splitting battle cry as it fell in a practiced, athletic somersault to bring a metal hammer across her skull. The flat metal of a twenty pound sledgehammer struck her on the crown of her head, a resounding **CLANG** ringing through the room.

"Owww!" Harley howled in pain as a sharp vibration ran through her arms, forcing her to drop the hammer as she shook her hands out. "Mistah J, I think I broke something!" Wonder Woman fell to her knees, blood running down the side of her face, but she still wasn't out of it just yet. Her vision was blurry and her ears were ringing, but she was still conscious. This was why everyone had been getting on her case about being careful. There was no way of telling what that clown would do. Now she saw him picking up the mallet again, ready to finish the job that Harley had started. Joker raised it high above his head, about to bring it down on her skull again. Diana still felt her head pounding from the first blow, but she wouldn't be caught like that again. She grabbed the hammer just below the head right before it collided with her skull again, stopping it cold at the very last instant.

"You little…" The Joker tried to wrestle the hammer from her, but even in her weakened condition, Diana was stronger than he was. Before he or Harley could do much of anything, she heaved and pushed Joker with such force that he collided with Harley, and the two of them smashed into a base of crates which promptly toppled and buried the two of them in toys.

Breathing deeply, she shakily got to her feet, rubbing at her head in agony. She doubted she would be able to fly in this condition, lest she wish to hit every building on her way out of here. The headache she had was the worst she'd ever experienced, indeed impairing her mobility as she staggered through the dark hallway past the abandoned offices and other rooms, just as dilapidated and decaying as the rest of the building. All she needed now was time to recover before she went back to the battle. As frail as Joker and Harley were compared to her, they'd certainly done some damage in spite of it.

_I underestimated them. Can't make that mistake again, or they'll finish me. _She tried her best to listen through the dull throbbing in her ears as her blood rushed, able to pick up the enraged voice of the Joker and the pained whimpers of Harley.

"Ugh! I'll slit that Star-Spangled harpy ear to ear!"

"Mistah J, I think…I think I'm really hurt here, my arms are numb!"

"Right, right…did you happen to see which way she went?"

"N-no…ow…"

"You're really hurt, eh?"

"Y-yes, sir…"

"Aww, poor Harley. Come here, let me give you your smile back." _Oh, Hera, even Harley isn't that stupid._

As it turns out, she was. Diana heard a happy little squeak as Harley moved towards her 'Puddin' and was rewarded with a swift blow. She couldn't see what had happened, but she heard Harley's body hit the ground as a result. Diana winced as she ducked for cover in what she could only imagine was the cafeteria, where there were many tables lying on their sides and broken chairs among them. From here, Joker's voice was fainter but she was still able to pick out a satisfied chuckle as he no doubt stepped over (or on, knowing him) Harley's unconscious body.

"Well, she'll feel that at least! Heh heh! Oh, Wonder Woman! There's something you should know about this place!" Diana didn't respond, for fear of giving away her position as she heard those footsteps echoing down the hallway, drawing ever closer to her temporary hiding spot. Joker simply assumed (correctly) that she was hiding nearby since she was injured and couldn't possibly have gotten all that far away. "If Batbreath were here, I'm sure he'd confirm this for you, but: there's about a half ton of explosives under this building, and I don't have any problem detonating all of it just to get at you." Diana still remained hidden in the darkness, away from the bluish moonlight that was creeping in through the windows in this room. "No answer, huh? Then again, that's probably what hanging around the Bat does to people. He doesn't talk a lot when I'm goading him like this, either. But you'd know, wouldn't you?" She could hear the amusement in his voice and it made her sick to her stomach. He knew! The bastard knew about those well-hidden feelings she had for Bruce! "Damn right I know! I'm the evilest psychopath this side of the Chattahoochee!" _He can read minds now? _

Diana crept further away from the door as he drew closer, her legs trembling, though that was simply because she was waiting for the dizzying effect of being given a mild concussion to wear off. It was the light crunching of rotting wood beneath her boots as she changed position that gave her away, though Joker wasn't the one she had to worry about. Deep in the darkness that she was currently clinging to, another figure was lining her up in his sights, a wide grin on his face. She didn't notice that the barrel of a bazooka was lined up at her from the rectangular pick-up window across the room to her far right – no, she was too focused on the Joker to notice that someone else was sneaking around by the sinks used to wash the lunch trays, the build of the small room within a room making a perfect foxhole. Before Joker could think of anything more to say, the bazooka went off.

Wonder Woman only heard the low rush of air escaping an enclosed tube – she looked to her right and saw a black blur bearing down on her with unmatchable speed, and she tried to dodge, throwing all of her weight backwards. She got a couple of feet before the rocket exploded in the spot where she had been standing, her entire perspective instantly going bright yellow and orange as searing heat washed over her entire body. She flew, and this time not of her own volition, back against the wall between a couple of windows where her back collided with solid bricks. It gave way, crumbling beneath her as the windows on either side of her shattered. She fell downwards, then, unconscious before she even hit the ground. Her body was burned, though because of her magically enhanced strengths, she was still in one piece and only scalded as if someone had poured boiling water on her. She hadn't even taken a breath when bricks, tile, glass and broken furniture all fell atop her as well, burying her beneath a pile of rubble. Only her hand remained visible, feebly reaching outwards, as if to ask for help before it fell limp.

Up above, Joker walked calmly over to the hole she had made in the wall and gazed down at the pile that had been created as the silent figure responsible moved to stand next to him, the bazooka dropped with a clatter. The boy stood next to Joker, no more than eleven years of age, but if one didn't know any better, they'd swear the child was a clone, right down to the frozen smile.

"Good shot, JJ. I think we just found another volunteer for our newest experiment." The two of them laughed at that – and when that wasn't enough, they laughed some more, leaving the room to go gather the battered, and hopefully living remains of Wonder Woman.


	8. All Hell Breaks Loose

Both of them were breathing heavily, sporting injuries from battle. A long time ago, Bruce had installed a filter in the lights in the cave that made them imitate the wavelength of the rays of a 'red' sun without the light actually being red. He liked to be prepared, and knew deep down that someday he and Clark were going to fight. Bruce hoped and prayed this day would never arrive hopefully later than sooner, but here they were. Despite the lights, Superman wasn't a pushover; he was still easily as strong as Bane hopped up on his venom. He'd already broken a few of Bruce's ribs and nicked him with a blast of that heat vision along his right shoulder. To be fair, Superman was still bleeding where Bruce had first hit him, from a split lip, and was sporting the beginnings of a black eye. Batman had hit him every way he knew how, and grew steadily frustrated with how it seemed to have little effect, leaving both of the combatants short of breath as they glared at each other, each waiting for the other to make a move. Batman saw a faint red glow, and set himself in motion.

He rolled across the floor, just barely missing twin crimson beams of light that threatened to sear off a limb, but he didn't stop there. Once his feet were on the ground, he took off running, those lasers kicking up heated rock at his heels – at the same instant, he flung a Batarang towards the origin point of those beams, and struck his target. Superman was struck on the corner of his right eye, causing him to stop and clutch the area in agony while Batman slid to a halt a few feet on his right flank. Neither of them showed any signs of a weakening resolve, though, and after a brief moment to catch his breath, he lunged for Superman again, who was blind sided from the right with a flying side kick that landed squarely against his shoulder, knocking him down and leaving the joint itself nearly dislocated.

Batman landed neatly, but with a grimace as he clutched his sore ankle; no matter how hard he hit Superman, it probably did more damage to himself. A quick look at his bloody knuckles, cut even through the Kevlar in his gloves was enough to confirm that theory. It was frustrating, because he knew he was running out of options. Superman was up in an instant, clutching at his injured shoulder, glaring coldly at his opponent.

"You can't beat me, Bruce. Your body will give out long before mine does."

Batman said nothing as he stood shakily to his feet, flexing his right foot to get some feeling back into it. _Yes, Clark, but I have a trump card. Please…whatever you do, don't make me use it. _He fixed Superman with his trademark glare and charged at him again, though this time Superman went along with him. Both of them met in the middle of the wide space between the rotating parking spot where the Batmobile sat and the computer, leaving them in a wide open area.

Superman had his fist bought back already and threw it with everything he had, but Batman had already ducked under that right hand and grabbed the arm connected to it. Batman twisted around so that his back was to Superman and drove his right elbow into where he knew a human's solar plexus was – even if he didn't get it, the blow had the desired effect of driving the wind out of Superman and as such he arched his shoulder and threw him hard against the side of the Batmobile. Superman landed upside down on the cold metal of that parking space, right on his neck while Batman clutched at his seared shoulder in agony.

Batman backed away into the shadows of his various trophies throughout the years, panting for breath still as he tried to regain the feeling in his arm after elbowing Superman like that. _Please…please, Clark, just leave. I don't want to have to…to kill you, too._

"Bruce, give up!" There was no reply as Superman gathered himself up and glared into the darkness, searching for his target. "I know this is tough, but I'm still willing to help you if you refrain from killing the Joker." Batman narrowed his eyes at that as he climbed up with ease into the alcove over Superman – the very same opening that led to the surface where he'd fallen down here so many years ago. "Is that how you want all of this to end? Think about your parents…think about your new family. You're throwing it all away for a clown. A clown! Do you realize how stupid that sounds?"

The truth stung, to be sure, but Batman wasn't about to give away his position. As usual, Superman didn't understand – Joker had pretty much destroyed his new family, and was probably working on the remaining members that he had yet to do anything to. Batman carefully slipped an explosive Batarang from his belt and took careful aim as Superman moved between the display cases for the various replicated costumes of his foes. He weaved between the Penguin and Harley Quinn to name a couple as Batman engaged the timer on the explosive and counted silently counted to two. Superman stopped cold as the end of that very same Batarang embedded itself into the ground just in front of his right boot, the red light in the center blinking rapidly. His eyes widened, but before he could respond another joined it and both of them exploded right in his face with all the force of a grenade. With his powers greatly diminished, the yellow blast threw him straight up into the air about ten feet, the searing pain of the heat causing him to wince as the glass from those display cases whizzed by, lacerating his suit and skin. Batman leapt from his place an instant before Superman reached the top of his little flight, arms up and feet together as he aimed his trajectory. He struck, too, landing solidly on Superman's spine, causing both of them to come crashing down to the floor with a shock that rumbled the very rock of the cave.

Batman had landed exactly how he wanted to, in a crouch atop Superman's back kicking up a few centuries' worth of dust from the floor as the stone gave way beneath Superman, causing an almost Wil E. Coyote-like crater in the floor. He jumped off of Superman and somersaulted into an easy landing, though it wasn't far enough. Superman grabbed hold of Batman's ankle and pulled sharply, causing him to fall onto his back, but he was far from done. Before Batman could free himself, Superman stood up quickly and one-handedly threw Batman across the cave at such a speed that he couldn't even take his grapple from his belt to slow his momentum. He hit the giant penny with a resounding clang that shook even more rock from the ceiling as the penny slowly tipped backwards from the force Batman had been thrown into it.

He slid down the sleek, brown surface of the Lincoln Memorial and collapsed in a heap upon the ground as the penny fell flat behind him, kicking up a cloud of dust that blinded both of them. A few stalagmites even fell from the ceiling, destroying the remaining displays and the Nightwing suit. Clouds of spilled chemicals rose from the breached containers, and the lights flickered in unison with the computer screens. Superman was relieved to see that, when all the smoke finally cleared, Batman still sat in the same position at the base that once held the massive coin, shoulders drooping and head tilted forward, that bat emblem on his chest slowly rising and falling in brief, short breaths. Superman hoped he'd just knocked him out instead of giving him a fatal concussion, but he knew that either way the fight was over. He took a deep, calming breath, coughing slightly at the slight bit of dust that remained in the air.

Once he'd collected himself, he hobbled over to Batman, wincing at the pain in his back. _I hope I don't ever need to fight you again. I might end up in traction…_

With that, Superman drew closer to his fallen opponent and picked him up by the front of his cape in one hand, about to set him on his feet to see if Bruce was simply playing opossum. He got his answer – all of the breath was suddenly taken from him as a stabbing pain ripped through his chest. Superman felt something well up in his throat like bad Chinese food, but he knew for certain that it was his own blood. Superman looked downwards, then, finding Batman's gloved hand enclosed around the hilt of a knife. For some reason, that knife seemed to be glowing from inside of his chest…and from the burning that spread from that area, he knew perfectly well why that was.

"Kr…Kryptonite..?" Batman planted both feet against that bright red 'S' and kicked hard, sending Superman sliding back across the floor while Batman himself fell on that giant penny, where he simply laid in a heap, staring blankly up at the ceiling.

"I'm…sorry, Clark…" Superman coughed up more of his own blood and tried in vain to remove the knife as he fell to his back. By now, his skin had started to go green from the radioactive poisoning that the rock embedded in his heart poured into his heart.

"It's okay, Bruce…it's oka…" Superman drifted off, then, as he slumped to the ground, breathing his last breath.

Batman didn't know whether it was from being thrown around by a super-powered alien or from being the man responsible for killing the world's greatest super-hero, but he felt horrible. With a shaking hand, he removed his mask and simply allowed the darkness to fall in on him, taking him into a fitful, restless sleep where he still couldn't get any peace. Even in his dreams, he was mocked and ridiculed by that grinning jester as his friends and family were tortured to death.

* * *

All this time, Summer stood outside of Wayne Manor, waiting for the police, but they still hadn't arrived. She could see the city from the cliff here, and heard the sirens wailing off in the distance, but she had the distinct feeling that they weren't coming here. True to her word, she had called the police to this place instead of a news crew, just as she'd promised Veronica she would, but from the sounds of things, the authorities had their hands full with whatever was going on out in the city. Growing increasingly tense, she pulled out her phone and called down to her building, looking for someone who could tell her what was going on – and got no answer. Now she was pissed. Something potentially career-making was going on in the city and she was stuck here at this creepy old mansion. She turned around as a pair of headlights swept over her, relief flooding through her…only to be dashed as she saw Veronica get out of the car, though she was smart enough to bring an actual coat this time.

"Summer! I brought some hot chocolate this time!" The woman ran up to meet Summer, who was still looking out over the city, biting on her lip. They stood at the side of the mansion on the cliff, looking out over the city. Summer started as she felt something in her hand, only to look down to see the top of a thermos in her hand, courtesy of Veronica, who was offering a tiny smile.

"Th…ahem, thank you." She carefully blew on the steaming hot beverage, though she didn't say anything else.

"Is there anything wrong? You look like somebody just stole your trust fund or something." Summer chuckled at that, but she did appreciate the attempt.

"I'm just worried. I called the police over an hour ago, and Superman hasn't come back yet. From the looks of things over in the city, I guess the police are somehow too busy to respond…and so is my news team. Do you have any idea what's happening out there?"

Veronica shrugged at the question and drank a bit of hot chocolate from the thermos. "Why don't we go check the radio? I'm sure there's someone reporting on whatever might be happening."

Summer felt like she'd just been slapped in the face by a wrought iron glove – that was so obvious! "You're a genius!" With that, Summer ran off towards her car with Veronica following at a leisurely pace, taken aback but quite warmed by the compliment. Summer was in her car in an instant, frantically searching through the radio stations while, behind them, the skyline of the city was lit up by several explosions rising from the streets so that the rounded fireballs were just visible over a few of the buildings. Once the explosions were done, the smoke came soon after.

Neither woman saw this, however, as Veronica climbed into the car with Summer, who finally found a news station.

"…a team of several meta-humans led by the Joker is in downtown Gotham, slaughtering whoever gets in their path, women and children included. The police are unable to stop them, and civilians are advised to avoid Perry Avenue, go home and bolt thei—OH GOD, NO!" Then there was only static.

Both women looked at each other, the color draining from their faces. They were safe here, they knew that, but they very slowly turned around to see that the skyline of the city had been set ablaze in the brief time that they had turned their backs, the normally red sky over the city gone a deep shade of orange as fire reached up to the heavens.

* * *

Back in Arkham Asylum, the news broadcast was met with almost unanimous praise and applause – so much so that the orderlies were growing increasingly wary of a possible riot. The dark hallways, usually quiet save for the occasional dripping of a sink or incoherent mumbles of a tortured inmate were alight with the sounds of protest that came from the much too early time at which the inmates had been forced into their cells.

"Ya damn white coats! I wasn't even doing anything! I was just watching fuckin' the TV!" Two-Face struggled against the orderlies literally dragging him to his cell, each man holding onto one of his bound arms, as he was currently in a straight jacket. Indeed, Harvey Dent had been one of the only inmates to remain calm despite the fact that Joker was out there tearing up the city without any sign of the Bat showing up. There was more to it than he saw on the TV, but before he could find out, he'd been slapped in this stupid jacket. He managed to get his foot hooked around a corner as they tried to drag him to an empty cell, causing their grip to slip. They looked down at him annoyed, but everyone on the block began to slam themselves against the glass separating them from the hallway, screaming at the orderlies, most of which were obscenities.

Two-Face locked eyes with Killer Croc, who was already in his cell and gave a slight nod. As the orderlies tried to gather him to his feet, Two-Face planted his feet against the wall suddenly and shoved his shoulder into one of the orderlies' chest, sending him slamming against the thick glass that held Croc in his cell. The glass wasn't thick enough, though, and as such Croc was able to smash through the cell and grab the orderly around his skull in a rough headlock, dragging him through the glass as easily as if he were straining a vegetable, leaving Harvey out in the hallway with a panicked orderly, who wisely ran for his dear life. By now, the applause was deafening from the inmates – the asylum was theirs now, especially since the police were too busy with the Joker. Two-Face moved over to the broken, bloody glass of Croc's cell and used the ragged edges of it to slice through the bonds of his straight jacket. Once he was free a few seconds later, he grabbed an axe and started hacking down the glass that kept Scarecrow in his cell.

That very same orderly burst into the office of Doctor Bartholomew, wheezing for breath and blue in the face, which caused the good doctor an appropriate amount of alarm.

"Jesus, what the hell happened to you?!" Now, the doc was a middle-aged man who wouldn't stand half a chance against any one of the inmates, and seeing one of the orderlies so distressed wasn't a very good sign. The man tried to catch his breath, but it wasn't easy, especially with the message that he had to deliver.

"The inmates…they're rioting…Two-Face and Killer Croc…they've already dispatched Jones…"

The doctor blanched. "Oh, God…lock this place down, NOW! Get everyone you can and arm them with all the tranquilizers we've got—"

He was cut off by a spray of blood hitting him right in the face, causing him to recoil in horror. The orderly's head simply fell off of his neck, which sported a clean, diagonal slash right through the bone. His body dropped soon after that, his pulse still pumping blood all over the floor as the corpse-like Scarecrow strode calmly in through the door, holding his treasured scythe in his hands.

"Good evening, doctor. We're long overdue for one of our sessions, don't you think? And I, for one, think this should be our last." Doctor Bartholomew's eyes widened considerably behind his glasses as he tried to back up – it was too late, though, he was frozen to the spot and his legs simply refused to move. The last thing he saw was the silhouette of the Scarecrow as he slowly raised that scythe like a batter in a cage. This was but the third of many impending murders of the Arkham staff…and the other wings weren't yet aware of the breakout.


	9. The Gang's All Here

The Joker couldn't believe how well this was all turning out – he never had this much fun when Bats was around, and to top it all off, he had taken Batman's friends and turned them into his own personal army. Harley was still back at the hideout at this point, nursing her broken arms after she'd brought that hammer down across Wonder Woman's skull. That had amused Joker to no end, to be sure, but he realized that she could still be of use to him, which was why he'd given her the biggest bowl of popcorn he could find so she could watch the news broadcast in comfort, despite the twin casts on her arms. Currently he was standing on top of Wayne Tower, watching as the explosions drew closer and closer to him. They had started miles away from here, all the way in downtown Gotham, but here he was, nearly in uptown and the explosions were rising from the streets even faster now; hell, even a few of the rooftops were exploding at this point.

He pressed a button on his portable radio, searching for another station since his little team had destroyed a third one. It came as no shock to him that the media mistook little JJ for him, but after a while he grew slightly frustrated that nobody noticed that the Joker had somehow managed to turn himself into a child. He took the pair of binoculars from around his neck and peered through them at the origin point of the last street-based explosion, and found his purple convertible weaving in and out of traffic with the police in hot pursuit.

"Heh heh…'hot' pursuit. I'm going to have to write that one down." Just as he said that, he saw a bat-shaped figure lean out of the window and toss a grenade out at the police, the resulting explosion lifting the closest car off the ground – several explosions followed closely behind in rapid succession as the cars behind that one all crashed and their gas tanks ignited, causing a good bunch of the innocent people in traffic to be caught in the blast as well. The Joker thought he'd die laughing as that purple car swerved around a corner and out of his sight, dodging the fire as they slid down an alley. Not because of the fact that all of these people were dying, but because that Bat-shaped figure was Gordon's brat, meaning that JJ was driving. He couldn't have been older than twelve! Joker dried the tears that came from laughing so hard from his eyes and swerved his sights over towards the most recent explosion on the rooftops.

There she was, ripping through the Gotham skies like she owned them in full costume. Wonder Woman was much too fast for the bulky police helicopters of Gotham, but still she allowed them to catch her so she could deflect their bullets in every direction, shattering the windows of dozens of offices, spraying blood and sometimes brain matter across papers and desks, and sometimes even unfortunate co-workers. People were flooding into the streets in a panic, but they soon found out that it wasn't much safer outside. Those who weren't incinerated by explosions were crushed as a few buildings collapsed on them, or were hit by panicked drivers trying to escape the carnage. Women and children were not spared from the chaos that the Joker was carefully orchestrating from his perch high atop Wayne Tower where he could nearly see the entire city. Even at this height, he could hear the musical sound of terrified screams coming from the streets, as well as the occasional squeal of tires followed by a crash. The best sounds, though, came from the collapsing buildings when a few hundred people would scream all at once as tons of concrete and steel fell atop them, only for all of it to suddenly stop with a low rumble as the building settled into a smoking pile. The fourth building had fallen perhaps ten minutes ago, and he felt it was past time for another one.

The Joker allowed the binoculars to drop back to his chest, then, as he pressed down on yet another red detonator – two miles away, a few dozen barrels of nitro glycerin exploded in the basement of Gotham General Hospital, causing the foundation of the building to crumble. Once again, he heard perhaps three hundred people all cry out at once as the building shook and came crashing down, kicking up a good amount of smoke. He laughed harder this time, even if that was the last building that he'd placed a bomb in. The previous four were equally crippling to the city: he'd bombed Police Headquarters, the Fire Department, City Hall and Mayor Hill's mansion (with the esteemed mayor inside of it, no less). It had been a simple matter now that Wonder Woman was on his side.

He stopped suddenly and ducked as a helicopter went rushing past him in flames, only for it to hit another corporate building behind the one he was standing on. With a shark's grin, he stood up and dusted himself off as he looked up at Wonder Woman, who was floating in front of him now. She looked like Frankenstein's monster – and for all intents and purposes, that was precisely what she was. The Joker had killed her upon discovering her unconscious body under all of that rubble, needing only to place his hand over her nose and mouth. She'd struggled slightly, even in her sleep, but her weak convulsing soon came to an end as she died after a minute or two. After that, he'd let her body grow stiff and cold before he carried her back into his hideout. It hadn't been easy, but he got her to that operating table and he'd started working. Looking at her now, it was hard to believe that had been only about two hours ago.

Her skin had gone even paler than it had been which he helped along by ridding her of all pigmentation. It helped to draw the eye to her rather colorful costume, and most importantly her face. Since he didn't have the luxury of a lot of time as he had with Gordon and Drake, he had to give her that smile the hard way – that is, he cut the flesh away from her teeth in the shape of a large crescent with a scalpel. It had bleed for a while, but since she was dead anyway, that stopped soon enough. Afterwards, he'd hooked her up like a human Tesla coil; large, black electrical conduits had been lined up quite visibly along her spine, giving her the appearance of quills all along her back, topped off by two sets of hideous, very Frankenstein-inspired bolts of heavy iron. One set was punched through her temples directly into her frontal lobe while the others were jutting from either side of her neck. The genius part (to him, at least) was the location of her 'battery', the source of all of this energy: he'd cut her chest open and installed just such a device in her heart (and from the way her costume was designed, the scar and the stitches holding it shut were grotesquely visible). Every so often, sparks flew from her back, or electricity would run along her body, giving her just enough life to move, but not enough to think or speak. She was an extension of his will and no more, though he could look into those cold, dead eyes and see that she held nothing but utter contempt for him, presumably for turning her into what she was now.

"Now was that at all necessary, Wonder Slut? Get back down there and cause some mayhem." Wonder Woman simply giggled in response, her body quaking as her hands curled up into fists at her sides. "Thinking about rebellion, are you? Typical." Tucking his hands behind his back, he stood up straight and simply stared her down, grinning from ear to ear. He felt so much more comfortable in his suit now, which only added to his confidence, despite deliberately incurring the wrath of an Amazon yet again. "Come on, then! Even clowns don't have all day!" He laughed in her face. Before she even realized it, her body was in motion, her hand outstretched going for Joker's throat. The electrical current through her body suddenly increased, sending her barely-functioning organs into overdrive as she was engulfed in crackling, blue streams of electricity. She fell short of her target, landing harshly on her stomach before skidding to a painful halt where she continued to writhe and convulse in front of the Joker. He'd pressed down on the button of his joy buzzer, which he'd hidden behind his back just moments before.

That grin was illuminated in flashes by all of that energy coursing through Wonder Woman's abused body for a few moments. Minutes passed by – it wasn't until a helicopter threw a spotlight on him that he decided to let her agony-ridden body relax.

"Now get back down there." With that, he gave her a swift kick under her chin and sent her battered body off the side of the building. The smoke was still coming off of her body as she spiraled downwards story after story. Ten stories, twenty, thirty, forty…it took nearly half a minute for her to reach the street, where she crushed some hapless citizens' car down to the ground. People gathered around to see who had fallen, and quickly winced at what they saw. Some even threw up at the sight presented to them.

"My god, is that Wonder Woman?"

"What happened to her?"

"Her…face…I'm going to be sick…"

Even though she was seemingly 'dead' again, her eyes remained wide open, her grin frozen on her dead face as she stared aimlessly into the sky. At least, it seemed aimless to those gathered around. If anyone could read her mind, though, they would know that she was looking towards the Watchtower. She couldn't see it, but she knew its position by heart; tears began to flow from her still open eyes.

"Guys, are you seeing this?!" The Flash was nearly jumping out of his suit, but this wasn't the kind of excitement that spoke of anything positive. The rest of the league, Green Lantern, Hawkgirl, and J'onn all flew from their posts to where Flash was sitting. J'onn arrived first, coming out of the wall like some kind of ghost while Shayera and John both landed next to each other right behind him.

"What is it, Flash?" In response, the fastest man alive turned the volume up on the main screen in the monitor room where Snapper Carr was reporting live from Gotham city. Usually the anchorman was the picture of tidiness, but right now he looked as if he'd just walked off from ground zero. His hair was disheveled, his suit was torn and he seemed to be bleeding from a cut above his hairline. It was the background that was so striking, though. There were firefighters trying desperately to save some people in a burning building. One such firefighter was in a cherry picker, trying to take a child from a woman's outstretched arms.

"…from Gotham City where the Joker has single-handedly destroyed nearly twelve blocks. Bombs are everywhere, nobody knows when another will go off and destroy…wait. I'm getting something here. It seems that we're receiving a transmission live from the White House."

With that, the reporter was replaced with a picture of the president, standing in front of a podium in the White House press conference room, complete with the navy blue drapes and all.

"My fellow Americans, one of our greatest cities is suffering immensely. The terrorist known as The Joker is at the root of this. It is with utter determination that I have given the order to send military troops to Gotham City in an effort to defeat this threat to our great nation. That is all."

Every reporter present began to shout questions at the president, who calmly walked away to be replaced by the Secretary of Defense. At that moment, the picture was again replaced by Snapper Carr, who was busy looking over his shoulder at the fireman trying to rescue more people from the fifth floor of the building behind him. The camera swerved up a few floors to someone else who was waving frantically for attention from the top floor of the building, and focused on them. Had the cameraman been able to read lips, he may have been able to prevent another catastrophe.

"Meth lab! METH LAB! Get away from here! There's a—"

The resulting explosion killed the firefighter on the cherry picker and the elderly woman in his arms immediately and actually bought the building down. Snapper Carr ran for cover and ended up hitting the cameraman head-on, knocking the perspective down to the ground, showing the frantically running feet of those around before the smoke and dust enveloped them all. The perspective cut back to the studio, where a blanching female anchor stared in horror at the screen, stunned into silence by what she had seen.

"S-Snapper? Are you there..?" There was no answer. The anchor bit her lip and tried to carry on the report as best she could, but there was a pointedly somber tone in her voice as she tried to continue. "Th-there you have it, ladies and gentlemen…"

The seats around that TV were all empty at this point. The rest of the League was done waiting for their comrades, and they were already seated in the Javelin waiting for them in the landing bay.

Back in Arkham Asylum, every one of the inmates had been released. Each and every person, committed and voluntary had been prematurely let loose. Two-Face had let out everyone in the 'special' wing – that is, everyone here had been apprehended by Batman. None of them were particularly concerned about the approach of the military, especially after they had all gotten their belongings and, most importantly, their costumes back. Mister Freeze, in particular, was glad to be able to move around outside of his cell. All of them gathered at the front gate, where Two-Face stood to address the crowd. The spikes atop the gate had been used to spear the heads of most of the doctors here at Arkham, and as it turned out, there was a head for every letter in 'Arkham Asylum', which was spelled out in iron in an arch over the gate. The rest of the staff littered the hallways, dismembered, decapitated, and defiled in every possible way by about a hundred insane people.

"The United States government has declared war on the Joker. I know a lot of you don't particularly care for the clown…and we're both with you on that." This drew chuckles from most of them. Poison Ivy, though, was already sneaking away from the crowd – and she managed to leave without anyone noticing. "But they will destroy everything we've ever had and will ever have in this city, just to destroy one man. I ask you: is that justice?" The answer, of course, was a resounding 'NO!' "On the other hand, this is our chance to leave this hellhole, and be free. The Bat won't ever come for any of us again, if we do. We could all start fresh." He held out his scarred hand in the black sleeve towards all of them. "I propose a flip of the coin. Good heads, we all skip town and go our separate ways. Bad heads…" The unscarred half of his face grinned. "…we kill them all, and then go our separate ways." The crowd murmured in agreement, of course. Two-Face was finding it pathetically easy to manipulate the insane – that could be why Batman was always able to apprehend them.

Without further ado, the crowd fell silent and he flipped his coin up into the air.


End file.
